


My New Broom Has Violet Eyes!

by thetreesgrowodd



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bad Fic, Crack, Don't Judge Me, Fourth Wall, Gary Stu, Humor, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Mpreg, My Brain Does This Thing Sometimes..., Parody, Ron Deserves Better, Troll in the Dungeon, Underwear Kink, WHY?!, Wait What?, Wingfic, Would You Like Fries With Your Crackfic?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-31
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-11-17 11:47:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/551210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetreesgrowodd/pseuds/thetreesgrowodd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chapter 1: One Time I Went to the Library (Without Hermione!)<br/>Chapter 2: Ron Loves Underpants!<br/>Chapter 3: Angel Angel Angel Boys!</p><p>Harry's long summer of fantasizing about Ron is interrupted. BY DESTINY!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One Time I Went to the Library (Without Hermione!)

**Author's Note:**

> _I'm sorry. I'm so sorry._

Harry Potter was a strange boy. He liked sci-fi and fantasy and he knew the stories were all _real_ because he was a _wizard himself_ and had those same kinds of adventures _all the time_.

Well, except right now. Right now it was summer and he was spending most of his time locked in his room all alone with nothing to do. But, as he was a teenage boy, you can guess what that led to. At least he was keeping busy. Idle hands _are_ the devil's plaything, after all. He really liked to think about Ron changing out of his sweaty underpants after Quidditch... or after a grueling day of lessons... or after sitting in the common room. Actually Ron sweated a lot. But Harry liked that, because it meant Ron's skin would look moist and shiny as he wandered around their dorm room, picking up random underpants from the other boys' beds and trunks, trying them on with a look of intense concentration, trying to remember if they belonged to him.

Then one night, Aunt Petunia let Harry out of his room to have dinner with the family. He thought she was being nice for once. But really she just wanted him there so she could complain about the heavy breathing she kept hearing from his room.

"I know what you're doing in there, boy, and I won't have it!" Petunia said, waving a spoon at his nose. "Exercising!"

Harry let out a little sigh of relief, but Petunia wasn't done.

"A scrawny, freakish thing like you exercising? Now, when I hear heavy breathing through Dudder's door, I'm so proud of him for exercising! Bless his heart. Exercising all day, every day! And Vernon doesn't think I know, but I hear him secretly exercising in the bathroom, at least twice a day! Big strong men like them should exercise! Only, darlings, you don't have to hide it from me. Why, we could all use my Jazzercise tapes together!"

Harry, Dudley and Vernon exchanged a rare look of male commiseration.

After that, Harry learned how to breathe quietly. But to avoid accidentally thinking about Dudley doing the same thing in the next room, or Vernon in the bathroom, Harry had to concentrate extra hard on Ron. Ron's droopy pink nipples. His wall-eyed smile. The crisp, fire-red hairs in Harry's underpants after Ron accidentally wore them.

But still he couldn't fill every second of his time with that, so he was bored a lot. "I want to go someplace magic, Hedwig," Harry said.

And that day a door appeared in his floor! And you bet Harry went through it!

But it only led to an old library.

"I wanted something exciting. You expect better than this when you go through a magic door!" Harry ranted.

"You are wrong there, Sir Darkgem."

"Who said that?"

"I did."

"Well you got my name wrong. Don't you know who I am? Can't you see my scar? Maybe not, since you're just a voice out of nowhere. Maybe you don't have eyes. But I'm Harry Potter — everyone knows that!"

"In this place you are called by your true name, Sir Darkgem."

Harry digested this piece of information like a tough steak. It tasted good but you couldn't chew it and you were sorry later!

Then the source of the voice walked out from behind a bookshelf. Harry had been wrong — he did have eyes! Lovely soulful eyes with a magical intensity like Harry's greeny ones. It was like looking in a mirror! Except Harry was wearing Dudley's old clothes from his unfortunate gangsta phase and a baseball cap backwards. The stranger was wearing a long purple cloak with... well, maybe with NOTHING underneath it. The deep hood hid his face, except for his eyes.

"You are here in the Library of Fantastical Knowledge, Sir Darkgem, because a book wants you to be here."

"A book?"

"Yes, the books know all."

"Whoa. I thought that was Hermione!"

The guy smiled. "Ah yes, Hermione. She is known to us. She is our number one Book-Friend. But you are here because a book has something you need to know."

"How could a book have anything to do with me, Harry Potter? Books and me don't go together at all. But show me this book."

"It's not that easy. We shall have to search for it!"

"Search?"

"Think of it as a quest."

"A quest!" Harry announced grandly. I told you he was geeky.

*

They had been looking for the book fourteen hours straight! Harry really had to wee but this place was so elegant he was embarrassed to ask for a bathroom. So he held it and tried not to think about how much he had to go, which is a bad idea because you might trip accidentally and pee your pants during lunch and my mom had to bring me a change of pants. Which would be bad since Harry didn't have a mom and he stupidly hadn't even packed a change of underwear before venturing into the magic door.

"You will know the book when you see it. And it will knew you," the guy said for like the twelfth time already. He bent over for a long time to look at some books and Harry (who thought he might be kinda hot under that cloak) tried to memorize his ass for later.

A book over to the left started to glow suddenly and it had been true — Harry did know that it was the right book when he saw it. But he ignored it for a really long time to let the guy keep searching the bottom shelf, while Harry's eyes searched... his bottom.

"You will know the book when you see it, and it will know you," the guy said for the thirteenth time and stood up.

"Um, that book is glowing," Harry admitted. "It is supposed to be?" Weird things happened in the Wizarding world so Harry's policy was to ask first. Because there are stupider questions than the ones you don't ask. Only stupid answers. Or whatever.

"It wants to talk to you!"

Harry took the book with shaking fingers. He was nervous because a book had never wanted to talk to him before (except that one time that one told him to do his _own_ homework for once, but that turned out to just be Hermione).

 _~I am the book of your destiny Harrificus James Darkgem Potter.~_ Harry heard these words in his mind like he had headphones on. _~I will tell you all the secrets that have been kept from you.~_

"O Great Book, I have longed to hear the truth. Come! Will you not tell it to me now?" Harry said sagely and seriously.

 _~As you wish. You are the heir of Gryffindor!~_ the book told him. (This is actually true.) _~And you are the Chosen One to defeat Lord Voldemort and be Minister for Magic and Headmaster of Hogwarts. You are the one of legends who will revolutionize us all! Magic and Muggles, Squibs and Squids, Lycanthropes and Lagomorphs, and all the others too, yes, all the others!~_

Harry's mouth fell open in shock!

_~But the most important thing of all! You will meet your heart's true love when you return to school!~_

An image came to Harry's mind, a precious image Harry held in his mind since that one morning at Hogwarts last spring. Waking up and looking over and seeing Ron, ass cleavage visible over his baggy tighty-whiteys (probably Neville's, that fatty) sleeping all sprawled out, drooling on his pillow. Well actually Dean's pillow because Ron forgot which bed was his and got the wrong one and Dean couldn't wake him up to get him to move. That was why Dean (who was good at drawing) had drawn all that stuff on Ron. Those hearts around his nipples! Those arrows pointing down his underpants! Harry got giddy thinking of what they were pointing at! If only Harry had been able to draw on him too!

 _~Really?~_ the book asked in a much less mystical-sounding voice. Apparently it could see Harry's mind. _~No, seriously. This is going to be much better than THAT!~_

Mr. Purple Cloak smiled and it was time to go and Harry went home.

...

TO FIND HIS TRUE LOVE!


	2. Ron Loves Underpants!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Thank you to whoever clicked the kudos button on part 1. I imagine that it was caused by an accidental finger spasm, or as the result of some truly cruel dare, or a cat that jumped up on your desk and startled you. You were probably aiming for the back button anyway, but thanks._

Harry Potter was an even stranger boy than before. He went back to school knowing that destiny was waiting for him — _waiting_! I mean, how do you play Gobstones or BS your way through History of Magic essays when your destiny could happen to you _at any second_?

But he was back, and right now he was sitting in the Great Hall, catching up with Ron. It was good seeing Ron. His eyelashes were a shade lighter and the summer sun had brought out his freckles and after some kind of accident (Harry would ask Fred and George for the details later, as Ron's account had been rather muddled) with a Muggle paper-shredder than Mr. Weasley had brought home, Ron had a spiffy new haircut. Harry kind of wished he could have the bits of hair that had gotten cut off, but he thought it was probably too late to ask for them, and he had enough sense to know that it would sound weird.

Ron was in the middle of telling Harry about the _best_ dream he'd had over the summer (in which Harry had been straddling his broomstick, and it had turned into an elephant's trunk, and Harry had sprayed lemonade all over Ron from it) when a hush fell over the Hall.

A new student was being sorted!

Harry's stomach tied itself into a knot, because this was no first-year! He was around Harry's age and — oh. _Oh_. Harry fancied himself to have a great eye for male beauty in many forms... but this was beyond anything he'd ever imagined.

There seemed to be some kind of delay, some kind of confusion about the sorting. The hat was taking a long time and Dumbledore and McGonagall and (for some reason) Grubbly-Plank were standing around having a very serious-looking discussion. But that was all good because it gave Harry more time to check out the new kid.

He had a great body, muscles all over, even better than Oliver Wood. His curly blond hair flowed like a river of curls, a little overgrown, like a pure field of wheat, to his broad shoulders which were, um, firm and strong like... oak branches... holding up bravely during a storm... and his eyes and teeth blazed like the fire that burns at the center of the universe, consuming and creating and burning and burning, dark and so wonderful it's terrible and godlike and just... well, generally fucking amazing.

Meanwhile on Planet Hogwarts, the discussion was getting heated.

The Sorting Hat sang out, "I don't know! I don't know! I don't know!"

"That's not a house name!" Dumbledore was shoutier than Harry had ever heard him.

"But I don't know!"

"Say a house name, you barmy old hat!" McGonagall said, and her lips were so thin they like weren't even there anymore. Like they'd been vanished and she just had a Muppet-mouth.

Even without much in the way of features, the hat looked affronted. "I can't insult his talents like that! Whichever house he's in, he's gonna earn like a billion points everyday!"

Dumbledore lunged in and throttled the hat and it went "Gah!" and the new Head Boy from Gryffindor, Spencer Weasley, immediately jumped up and yelled that it was trying to say Gryffindor.

Everyone in the hall was on their feet arguing about what should be done with this new boy, like that scene in the Lord of the Rings before Frodo volunteers to _take the ring to Mordor_!

In the end, they let him go into Gryffindor.

The new boy stood up, calm and unruffled, and delivered a speech that he spontaneously came up with. His name was Prince Apollo Lance Vincent Gary DelaMerqury, but he told everyone to just call him Apollo, because he was everyone's friend. He had _very_ special powers, and had for his entire life. And it had been a hard life, growing up in a small wizarding village with high-profile witches and wizards always dropping in to study him and learn from him. He could heal people too, and even Muggles heard the rumors and came to the village (despite the required 2-week trek by alpaca when one couldn't use magic to get there).

Dumbledore himself had taken a special interest in Apollo (Harry would have felt a twinge of jealousy, having always been a bit of Dumbledore's Golden Boy himself, if it had been any less a person than Apollo) and had become his private tutor and taught him Hogwarts' entire curriculum before Apollo even hit puberty. But he'd also extended an open invitation for Apollo to come to Hogwarts, free of charge, and this year Apollo had finally been bored enough to take him up on it.

"True, I mastered all of this stuff ages ago, but it is very —" Apollo's eyes suddenly locked on Harry's, across the sea of heads, "— _stimulating_ to be here."

He bowed and everyone clapped and cheered like Apollo was the fucking Beatles and over the next few weeks Apollo became the most famous person in the whole school.

One day Draco ( _I know you've all been waiting for him, well here he is!_ ) Malfoy walked up. "Prince Apollo," he said with a sort of royal flush. "I hereby invite you to come and dine in style at the Slytherin table."

Apollo took his muscular, tanned arm off of Harry's shoulders (no!) and stood up, his eyes burning with ice. "Is that so? Well, I'll give you what you deserve!"

And Draco turned into a ferret and everyone laughed as he scampered out of the room. Luna found him curled up in one of her bras in her trunk and said, "Fuzzy cute!" and kept him as a pet for twenty years. He finally turned back into himself and renounced the Wizarding world and joined an order of monks in Tibet. He was tragically killed by a yeti, although some believe that he faked his death and assumed the identity of Sigerson, a Norwegian explorer. Mr Lovegood printed this rumor in the Quibbler as an introduction to his long-running but under-appreciated series of humorous articles about the Adventures of Draco Mal-ferret. They run to this day, despite the fact that no one has ever actually read one all the way through on purpose, and the howlers that Lucius Malfoy sends in response to each one.

But anyway.

"Oh Prince Apollo, thank you!" Harry said, because ferrets are funny and he had no idea what a sad future Draco was embarking upon as a result. Harry isn't actually a cruel or vindictive person, you see. He would have cared, if he'd known.

The two of them went up to the Gryffindor dormitory. They were alone and they started changing their clothes. When they were in their underpants, Apollo said, "Sir Harry, would you like to see my broomstick?"

Harry choked and nearly snapped his fucking neck turning to look at Prince Apollo. His chest was tan, muscular, and smooth like he shaved it. His pebbling nubs were rosy pink. His silky hair framed his handsome face like a valuable work of art is framed. And hung. The framed art was hung, I mean. Like a portrait on the wall of Harry's heart. Yeah.

The one thing Harry couldn't see anywhere was a broomstick.

Harry made a little questioning rasping sound, the only sound he was capable of making in that moment, but Apollo took that as an affirmative. He grinned roguishly and closed his sparkly eyes. As Harry watched intently, two pure white wings grew out of Prince Apollo's back. They were so white they burned your eyes just to look at them, but it was completely worth it.

"Would you like to touch them?" purred Apollo.

Harry didn't need asking twice. He went to Apollo's side so fast he banged his shin on his trunk and gave himself a big bruise but he didn't even notice. He ran his hands over those snowy feathers and his hands shook. They were the softest, silkiest thing ever. Some feathers rained down like pure white rose petals out of a clear sky. (Which was _amazing_ to see but it caused two problems later. One: Hedwig found some of them and thought they were from the handsomest male snowy owl ever and fell in love with him and searched for him forever and it was very sad. Not quite as sad as Draco's fate, but almost. Two: Ron was allergic to feathers and some landed on his bed and he sneezed for like a week. Harry gave him a probably-clean handkerchief with the Smeltings logo on it and Ron thought Harry was the nicest person in the world and said so and they both turned red to the tips of their ears and it was really cute).

"The truth of it is, I don't need a broomstick to fly. I can fly on my own. Three years ago, the International Federation of Quidditch officially ruled that I could play Quidditch this way."

"That's... how do you...?"

Apollo shrugged carelessly, which made the feathers ruffle a bit under Harry's hands. _Oh god!_ "I got so bored one day I figured out how to change myself into an Animagus. I turn into a Pegasus. I'll let you see it one day. _The wings are the second best part._ "

Harry squeaked. I'm frankly embarrassed for him.

"Then I got even more bored — this is the month I was doing all of your dull seventh-year studies — so I figured out how to partially change and just give myself the wings. No Animagus has managed it before. I wrote a book about it and spent quite a bit of time with the Department of Animagi Studies trying to teach them, but none of them managed it. Anyway, the best bit was, I realized I could play Quidditch without a broom."

"I... oh no, we have a Quidditch match in like 2 minutes!" Harry exclaimed, rememberingly. "We'll never make it down to the pitch in time."

"Won't we?" Apollo laughed. He scooped Harry up on his arms and flew out the window. In seconds they were gliding down to the pitch in front of the entire school, who were watching in stunned silence.

Harry felt like he was in some kind of completely silent place with a reverent hush, like a cathedral or something, and that gravity was reversed and his brain was floating and the places Apollo was touching him were white-fire-hot and his skin was all fizzy-feeling and everything was far away. His toes touched grass and he stepped out of Apollo's arms, wobbly like a newborn colt in the sun. Apollo smiled at him, like his teeth were a present Harry was unwrapping on Christmas morning (if he'd had a family who gave him good presents and made Christmas fun for him).

Apollo bent down closer. Harry could feel his breath on his face...

"Harry," Ron said from behind him.

"Not now, Ron!" Harry muttered. One of Apollo's curls brushed Harry's cheek. Oh fuck oh _fuck_ they were going to kiss!

" _Harry_!"

"Go away!"

Apollo closed his eyes and licked his lips.

"But Harry!" Ron's hand closed on the waistband of Harry's underpants. "I think those are my pants!"

And Ron _yanked._

And Harry remembered that:

a. He was on the Quidditch pitch in front of the entire school (except Hermione who isn't in this fic at all for some reason).

b. He was a fraction of a centimeter away from kissing another boy in front of the entire school (except Hermione). Since the boy was Apollo it was bound to make a lot of people jealous, but still they would probably spend the rest of the year stuffing his head down Moaning Myrtle's toilet.

c. He had never actually finished changing his clothes before Apollo flew him out of Gryffindor Tower. So he was in front of the whole school (except Hermione) wearing... well... best-case scenario, his underpants. Worst-case scenario, Ron's underpants (they all tended to get rather mixed together in their dorm room). _Worstest_ -case scenario, underpants around his ankles as Ron tried to get them back.

He wanted to die on the spot. He wondered if wandless self-administered Avada Kedavra was possible. He should have asked Snape to teach it to him. Snape would have just loved that, wouldn't he?

But Apollo was too suave for any of that. He wrapped his wings around Harry, covering his nudity (and Harry got to feel what those feathers felt like _there_ ). He got a little woozy and hot in the face and jelly-kneed, but Apollo held him up. Apollo raised their clasped hands in a show of victory and grinned his dazzling smile at the crowd and they all cheered. Harry forced his face into something like a smile, although it was wobbly with the feeling of those feathers touching him all over.

Ron crawled out from under the wings, clutching the underpants lovingly.

Next time: Quidditch! Romance! Ultimate DESTINY!


	3. Angel Angel Angel Boys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Thank you to the people who left kudos on this fic! ~~I swear it wasn't me using my aunt's ipad that time she forgot it here.~~_
> 
>  
> 
> _Anyone wishing to adapt this work into stage play, radio drama, musical, video game, tv show and/or screenplay format please email me._

They played Quidditch like there was no tomorrow, and Prince Apollo (in case you're just joining us, reader, I will explain. He is a very gifted magical student who could fly with wings) and Harry Potter (a very strange magical boy who is the prodigalist of our story) were the stars. They scored so many points they didn't even need the rest of the team.

Suddenly Voldemorth appeared in the bleachers! Nobody noticed him because they were so busy watching the players. Voldie tried to make Harry's broom shake him off to his demise and Harry was hanging on by one finger when Apollo flew up and caught Harry in his arms!

Harry threw the ball through the hoop and they won!

Voldie disappeared himself, very angry. But he vowed vengeance!

The Gryffindors all had a big party, but two key Gryffindors were missing and they were Harry and Apollo of course. Nobody knew where they had gone.

The moon was like a silver floating disk against black velvet with beautiful gems scattered across it. The puffy clouds were like flying sheep with no legs or heads. And among them flew Harry on the back of the muscular Pegasus who was actually his new best friend... or maybe something _more than that_ , Prince Apollo. Apollo's warm, muscular body felt great between Harry's legs after riding his broomstick.

Soon they landed on a mossy mountaintop. No one was around for miles. Apollo turned back into his winged human form.

"I like you as a Pegasus," the raven-haired boy said, "but I like you better as an Angel Boy. My Angel Boy."

Apollo, worshipfully: "I knew I was destined to be with you from the moment I laid eyes on you, sir Darkgem."

Harry, wonderingly: "Darkgem isn't my name — wait — you've called me that before. You were the guy in the magic library!"

Apollo, soulfully: "The Fates asked me to guide you onto the right path, the path that would lead you to kill Voldem —"

Harry, lovingly: "Shh, love, don't say his name."

"But I defied them, Harry. I became a rebel against Fate and Heaven because I knew I couldn't remain some anonymous guy in a magic library like they wanted me to. I fought a war to be here with you, my sweetling. I made some gods very cross with me, but they've come to realize that I was right. You need me and I need you..."

If you had been standing around watching the mountain with a pair of strong night-vision binoculars, or maybe looking out an airplane window, you would have seen some very interesting, very _adult_ things happening that would bump the rating of this fic up if I wrote about them. (My P.E. teacher told us how it works with two guys.)

Harry had never done anything like that before, but he'd seen a magazine that had wizards doing sexy things together, so he knew some of the basics. It was Ron's magazine, but Ron seemed to think it was about Magical Wrestling. Ron had reasoned that the wizards in the photos had all forgotten their pants, as he frequently did himself. Sometimes Ron would ask Harry if he wanted to wrestle, and they'd look at the pictures together, but they hadn't gone any further. Apollo knew how to do a lot of things, because he'd practiced with several handsome older wizards back home, and they'd done _everything but_ , so it was technically his first time.

After they were done this sight appeared in the sky: a beautiful Angel Boy with snow white wings and flowing silvery hair holding a boy with mussed coal black hair flying back towards Hogwarts with no shirts on.

"O Prince Apollo, I love you," said Harry.

"Harry, my Harry, I —" But Apollo never finished that sentence!

"DIE HARRY POTTER!" screamed Voldhemort! He suddenly appeared in the air floating. He shot the Avada Killavra spell right at Our Hero!

Harry's green orbs opened wide in terror seeing the green jet reflected in them coming at him!

"Never!" screams Prince Apollo, jumping in front of Harry, his arms and wings like a shield made of love to protect Harry. Apollo gets hit by the spell and starts to shutter and glow green and his feathers begin to fall like tears from Harry's heart and the heart of everyone who loves love... for this is _that kind_ of a tragedy.

"Apollo! No, my sweet angel boy!"

But he wasn't dead yet, just green and glowy.

"Shit," said Voldemort, peering at the business end of his wand to see what had gone wrong. "Why didn't that freak with the wings die?"

Yes, Voldemohrt raises a valid question. Why indeed?!

A sudden breeze kicked up, causing Prince Apollo's hair to stream dramatically around him. He had summoned the wind of his righteous anger!

"No more evil! Love will win!" He roared like the Gryffindor lion. Hissed like the Slytherin snake. Crowed like the Ravenclaw raven. And whatevered like the Hufflepuff badger. (look up what sound badgers make DONT FORGET TO FIX THIS)

Harry was crying all over the place. Apollo summoned his crystalline tears, glimmering in the moonshine, and used them to make a mighty spell. He casted it and it sent Voltemord to the sun where he fried and fried and hated and died! It was nighttime so they couldn't see it but still they knew it had happened and people in China took pictures that were in the newspapers the next day (in English).

Voldehmort is dead!

Back on Earth Apollo's breathing was ragged and his lovely face was pale and he was shaking. Harry eased him into a reclining position, crying softly.

"Harry, O my Harry." Apollo stroked his cheek. "Vholdemort was the most powerful dark wizard ever. Even I can't survive his instant killing spell for more than a few minutes."

"No! No!"

"But don't worry he's dead forever and you are safe, my love. And now with the last of my power I can..." Apollo closed his eyes and concentrated. A second later three people appeared next to them out of thin air. It was Sirius! and James! and Lily! And they were alive! Can you believe it?

"What the —?" Sirius looked around, blinking.

"My Sir Harry. Live happily with your family once again. Also without your scar since its gone now by the way. I... I love you too... but I'm happy I died so you can live..." he whispered.

And Harry leaned down and kissed Prince Apollo passionately as the last of his life force slipped away forever.

"Sirius? James?" Lily asked.

"OMG is that Harry kissing that boy?" James asked.

"Ooh, where?!" screamed Sirius looking around.

*

"Everyone said the Prince died, Harry?" Ron asked. "What's _died_ mean?"

Harry blinked tears out of his eyes and sat next to Ron on his bed. "It's when your heart stops beating and you go to a beautiful place in the clouds with all of your friends and you're happy all the time."

"That's like me. I'm happy in a beautiful place all the time with you, Harry. But my heart is still beating. Feel." Ron pressed Harry's hand against his body, under his shirt. Harry's Quidditch-callused fingers brushed Ron's nipple. Ron shivered, wide-eyed and his cheeks turned as red as the rubies in the Gryffindor points-tracker thing in the Great Hall.

Ron pushed up Harry's shirt to feel his heart too. "Harry, you're getting fat!" He dropped his hand to Harry's tummy.

"No Ron," Harry said. "Um I didn't tell anyone yet actually but... I'm pregnant..."

"With a baby?"

Harry nods.

"Like, a _baby_ baby?"

Harry nods.

Ron scrunched up his face, thinking hard. "Harry am... am I your baby-daddy?" Ron asked. "Because I know how babies are made and I couldn't help it. When you were sleeping you looked so handsome and I accidentally touched my thing and some stuff came out."

"O Ron, that's the most beautiful thing I've ever heard!" Harry whispered, overcome with emotions. "You like me like that? Because I like you like that too, dear heart. But it's not your baby."

"Oh." Ron looked disappointed.

"Could you love this baby and raise it like your own knowing that the one who deflowered me was Prince Apollo?"

"Yes. Marry me," Ron said.

"Ok," said Harry. And they kissed happily.

And Gryffindor won the house cup because Apollo got so many points actually they ended the competition halfway through the year and just crowned Gryffindor the winner. They had a big feast to celebrate Volhdemort being dead and Harry and Ron's engagement only the Slytherins were locked in the dungeons by Neville who is secretly a badass. Only at the start of the feast everyone was very somber and Dumbledore (who doesn't have to die in _my_ version of Harry Potter since Voldie is already vanquished) spoke about Sir Apollo and then Harry got up and told everyone about how much they'd loved each other and how Apollo died saving everyone.

Afterwards there was dancing and these were the couples: Harry and Ron, James and Lily, Sirius and Lupin, Neville and Luna, Ginny and Draco, Tonks and me. But Tonks kept changing into everybody else so it was really confusing! Dumbledore danced with all the boys.

And Harry had triplets and named them Darkgem, Pegasus, and Apollo although they called him Pollo for short so that when they talked about him they wouldn't confuse him with his father who they spoke about quite a bit even though they'd never met him.

Darkgem could control the weather and had pointed ears, Pegasus was born an animagus who could turn into a unicorn only he got stuck with the horn on his forehead a lot, and Pollo could heal people and bring them back from the dead and he looked just like his father but with Harry's eyes. They called Apollo "Father" (when they talked about his memory), Harry "Papa" and Ron "Daddy." Harry called them "my angel boys" because they all had wings.

And they had color-coded underpants so there wouldn't be any confusion:

red for Ron (that was easy for Ron to remember since they both start with R and also his hair is red)  
green for Harry (like his eyes, not like Slytherin)  
black for Darkgem (black like dark like his name)  
white for Pegasus (since he turns into a white Pegasus)  
and purple for Pollo (they both start with P)

It meant they had extra laundry but it didn't matter because Ron liked washing them.

But some mornings Ron put on his husband's green pants on purpose and smiled mysteriously at Harry over their breakfast cereal and Harry knew that secretly under Ron's wizard robes were his own underpants. Later when they were alone, Harry would chase Ron around Potter-Weasley Manor and wrestle him to the ground and take his own underpants back, laughing. And then he would draw hearts and stars around Ron's nipples and arrows that pointed down his underpants, only Ron wasn't wearing any at the time. It was a sex thing.

And after that only good things came true because Voldemorht was gone but Harry was sad that Apollo died, but he loves Ron and Ron loves him. _Love **love love**_, the true opposite of Voldemhort. The end.


End file.
